


Rebirth, The Old Fashioned Way

by genericfanatic



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Nonbinary Character, Other, consensual magical pregnancy, except Crowley who has all the genders, tagged m/m but angels and demons have no gender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-09-29 19:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20441507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genericfanatic/pseuds/genericfanatic
Summary: A few months following the not-pocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley get inconveniently discorporated. Unable to return to their home offices, they elect to grow new bodies themselves....with a little help from their friends.





	1. Life at Conception

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Altalemur, check xem out on Ao3 and Tumblr!

“Crowley, please, watch the road.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, glancing at the road for a moment before turning back to Aziraphale, “Angel, how long have you been riding with me, and you still don’t trust my driving.”

“It only takes once,” Aziraphale said, “And we need to be more careful these days.”

Crowley rolled his eyes again. “You were the one who took forever getting ready AND the one to get tickets for this concert you Sooo~wanted to go to.”

“I thought you’d be excited!” Aziraphale protested, “You love modern music.”

Crowley facepalmed, taking his hands off the wheel, “Angel. Angel please. Leonard Bernstein is fine, but he’s not modern--”

He was cut off as something slammed into the Bentley. The Bentley had never been hit before, and Crowley wasn’t sure what to even do as the cabin started folding in on itself. He scrambled for the wheel, trying to get control, but whatever was pushing on them was still going. 

Aziraphale blinked, blocking his face from the broken glass, blinded by bright lights flooding the cabin. He squinted, realizing they were attached to a truck, a truck that was still moving and pushing the Bentley off the road…. and off the cliff. “Crowley!” he shouted, “Crowley we have to get out!” 

“I’m trying!” he said, squished in the driver's side as he fruitlessly pressed on his pedals to fight the truck. He snapped his fingers to try and miracle the truck away and get them free, but the truck stubbornly didn’t move. 

Before he could try anything more, the car tipped over and went tumbling down the cliff. 

Up above in the truck, Hastur smirked. He parked, and got out, leaning over the cliff to see the wreckage at the base. Satisfied, he sunk back into the dirt, going back to hell.

**

Anathema had come to like living in Tadfield. It was a bit quaint, but that was in keeping with her general aesthetic. She didn’t like most of the villagers, but most of the villagers were somewhat afraid of her, so it wasn’t an issue. 

She especially liked how easy it was to bike anywhere she wanted to go. Sometimes she’d just bike around, relishing in the suspicious looks she’d get. Still, even here, she’d get tired going around, and no way was she borrowing Newt’s car. So getting slightly more distant places took more effort.

This morning, though, she had a purpose and a destination in mind, and therefore a lot of effort. Adam had messaged her to come over, which was very strange. Typically Adam and his group of friends would come and visit her in the cottage, or they’d meet up in the quarry. Adam’s parents weren’t afraid of Anathema on paper, but they weren’t overly fond either, so she didn’t often come to his house. 

The oddity of the request made it all the more urgent that she had to get to the house. When she pulled up, she saw none other than Ms. Tracy locking up her moped outside. “Good morning, Ms. Tracy,” Anathema said. She liked this woman, even if her (Partner? Boyfriend? Housemate?) Shadwell still didn’t trust her. 

“Oh!” Ms. Tracy said, looking up, “Hello Ana dear,” She could never manage the full name, so Ana was fine. Just for Ms. Tracy. “Young Adam called you too?” 

“He did,” she said, “Any idea what this is about?”

Ms. Tracy shook her head and they approached the house. Just before she knocked on the door, Anathema grabbed her hand. “Something’s here,” she said, squinting, “Something…. not human.” She squinted, seeing auras of a pair of beings. She hadn’t seen auras like these since….

The door opened and Adam stood in front of them, “Hi guys,” he said, “Come on in.”

Ms. Tracy looked between Adam and Anathema, but in an effort to be polite, stepped in with a smile, “Hello, Adam dear,” she said, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re out at the moment,” Adam said, “We probably have to finish up before they get home. 

“Finish up with what, dear?”

“Crowley and Aziraphale.” Anathema said, focusing on the auras. “They’re… they’re here, aren’t they? But I can’t see them.” 

The outlined silhouette of Aziraphale’s soul, glowing white and ethereal, waved at her. 

Ms. Tracy tried to look around, “How do you know?” 

“They are here,” Adam said, “I can see them… kinda. They’re kinda like ghosts.” He swallowed, “They lost their bodies. They came to me to see if I could make new ones, but…” he sighed, “I dunno. My powers have been kinda fading the further we get from the apocalypse. I tried, but it’s still a bit too much.”

Adam looked down, ashamed as a child who couldn’t meet their parent’s expectations could be. Ms. Tracy patted down his hair. “Creating a body….” Anathema said, “There are said to be dark magics that could raise a corpse, but I can’t do those kinds of things. And even if I learned, I don’t know how much help it would be.”

“They say they already have a plan B,” Adam reassured her, “That’s why they asked for you two.”

Anathema and Tracy exchanged looks. “Us?”

“Well, they said it could be anyone with the right parts,” Adam said, “But you two are the only ones they know well enough.” He smiled, “They’d like to ask if you’d have them as babies.”

Anathema blinked. Then blinked again. The words still weren’t fitting into her head in any comprehensible manner. “What?” 

Adam turned towards the bodyless auras, listening. Anathema couldn’t hear them, but the white one--Aziraphale, presumably--was gesticulating a lot. “They say they can create a zygote, made from DNA from their old bodies and a miracle, then they can use those bodies, but they’ll need a place for the babies to grow and be born, and then someone to look after them while they’re vulnerable.”

Ms. Tracy collapsed into a chair, in much the same way Anathema wanted to. “So,” Ms. Tracy started. “So… hold on a moment.” 

The aura of Aziraphale came to Ms. Tracy and kneeled before her, taking her hands. Ms. Tracy gasped at the contact, but stayed seated. “Mr. Aziraphale says he would be very honored if you would be his mother, Ms. Tracy.”

Ms. Tracy smiled a bit, still looking a bit shaken. “Well,” She said, “Well I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad,” she said, reaching out and trying to reach his face. “I mean, I’ve already had you inside me once before.”

Adam and Anathema screwed up their faces, “Mr. Crowley says he wishes you’d phrase that differently.”

“Wait,” Anathema said, still trying to wrap her brain around everything, “Wait just a… you want me to be PREGNANT?” she asked, “And just...carry a LITERAL demon for 9 months?”

Adam turned to Crowley’s aura, “Mr. Crowley says technically it would be about 8 months and two weeks, considering how things change based off menstrual cycles and stuff, and since the babies will be conceived immediately, you’ll already be 2 weeks pregnant.” Adam turned to her, “I don’t really get it, but I hope you do.” 

Anathema took a deep breath, “I get it, but that’s REALLY not my concern here!” She said, “I’m not just some incubator for you to grow your meat-mecha! 9 months is a long time!” 

“Mr. Aziraphale says it will actually be about 11 years,” Adam said, “Until their memories come back to them. Oh, right, they say that they’ll have forgotten everything, and have no powers or anything. But once they hit 11, it’ll come back.” Adam winced, turning to the aura’s, “11 years does kinda sound like a long time, guys.”

Anathema could see Crowley gesticulating wildly this time, but whatever he was saying, Adam wasn’t translating. She could see him and Aziraphale going back and forth, debating. “Mr. Crowley says he’ll make you a deal,” Adam said, “Before he gets re-conceived, he’s willing to re-miracle up the Bentley, and a will to leave the car to you.”

Anathema frowned, considering. She remembered how hurt her legs felt riding up this morning… and the Bentley was a really nice car… but 11 years of her life. “He’ll also throw in his rare herb collection, with the promise that they are kept in good condition.” Adam said, “Also, Mr. Newt isn’t allowed to drive the Bentley.”

“Done,” she said, holding out her hand for Crowley to shake. Instead, a paper ended up in her hand, a title for the Bentley in her name. Crowley’s aura approached her, and Anathema gulped as it took her hand. 

Anathema fell back a bit as the aura turned to smoke and stepped through her. It was freezing cold and burning hot at the same moment. She felt dizzy, grabbing the wall to keep steady. 

She expected to feel very different and changed when the smoke dissipated. Somehow though, she was just… the same. Like nothing had happened. If she looked closely, though, she saw a few black wisps invading her aura. 

“Ooh, tingly!” Ms. Tracy said.

She looked up at Ms. Tracy, who had similar white wisps in her own. “Well,” she said, “I suppose that’s that, then.”

**

“That southern pansy knocked you up?” Shadwell demanded.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Ms. Tracy said, looking around the new cottage she and Shadwell had bought together. They had gotten it with just the two of them in mind, and she was debating whether they’d need to move again. She hoped not, she rather liked this place. But they would have to do a great deal to prepare for a baby. “Well. Kind of like that, I suppose.”

Shadwell was none too pleased with this new development. “If you wanted a baby so bad, you could have just said something.”

“Oh please,” Ms. Tracy said, “Imagine if I had asked you that. You’d have run for the hills.” Shadwell grumped, mouth around his pipe, “Besides,” she continued, “At my age, it would probably be hard for me, you know. To do things naturally. Why, it was hard enough…”

She let herself trail off, eyes glazing over as the past came back to her. 

“You had a kid before or sumthin?” Shadwell asked.

Ms. Tracy swallowed, and Shadwell missed all the social cues telling him it was something she’d rather not talk about. She opened her mouth a couple times before giving up on words and just nodding. 

“Where’s he now?”

She swallowed again, the words lodged in her throat. “She didn’t make it.”

Shadwell dropped the pipe out of his mouth, looking at her and noticing her demeanor. He looked for his own words, but they were mysteriously hard to find. “Sorry,” he said. It wasn’t right, and not nearly enough, but maybe there weren’t any right words, anything that could be enough and fill up the sadness. Maybe just something there was better than nothing. 

She allowed herself to turn up the corners of her mouth, “It was a long time ago,” she said, “I had her for a few days. Gave her as much love as I could. Blamed myself for a long time, but…” she shook her head. “Can’t change it. And I don’t regret much in my life, if you can believe it.”

Shadwell gave one of his more noncommittal grunts, no doubt having his own thoughts on what she should or should not regret in her life, but in a surprising act of restraint, didn’t say it. “Well. it’s all better now, right? You get a baby, even if he’s--”

“Shadwell, for the next 11 years he’s going to be our son,” Ms. Tracy said, “Please do not call him a ‘southern pansy.’”

There was a lot of things Shadwell could comment on in there, everything from her tone to the admonishment, but he was getting stuck on one word in there. “Our?” he said. 

She finally turned to him, breaking away from her mental rearranging of furniture. “Well, you’re going to be living here, aren’t you?” she said, “Are you going to have me just raise the boy on my own?”

Shadwell cleared his throat, harder than he perhaps needed to. “I… no. No, I suppose not.” 

Tracy nodded. “Good. Then help me, we should start preparing a room for the baby before I get too pregnant to lift heavy things.” 

She marched into what was his room, technically, full of his old witchfinder regalia. “Hey!” he protested as she started taking down his corkboards.

“We’ll move it to the main bedroom,” she said, “You can stay there, with me, and we’ll use this for Aziraphale.”

Shadwell blinked. It wasn’t like he didn’t spend plenty of time in her room anyway. But still, theoretically speaking, they’d been separate these past few months. “Here, uh, let me help you,” he said, grabbing a particularly heavy stack of books. 

Newt woke up with a start. He was on the couch, and there was a wet cloth on his head that fell into his lap. He was at Anathema’s cottage (leaving out the fact he had been staying there these past few months. He had tried to get his own place, but he was still having trouble getting a job, he didn’t want to move back in with his mother, and Anathema’s family had money, so…)

He wasn’t aware of much other than it was daytime, unusual for a nap, and his side was sore. “Feeling better?” Anathema asked him. He looked over and noticed she (well he assumed it was her, his glasses had fallen off so he wasn’t totally sure) was sitting in a chair, on her laptop that Newt wasn’t allowed to touch. 

“Anathema…” Newt said, getting his breathing under control, “I just had the WEIRDEST dream.” 

She hummed, not looking up as he grabbed for his eyeglasses, “Seriously,” he said, “you were there… and you came home and you’d told me you were pregnant. Can you imagine?”

She rolled her eyes. “That was real, Newt.”

Newt blinked at her. Then again. She couldn’t...she couldn’t be serious. “Lay back down if you’re going to faint again,” Anathema told him. 

Well, that explained the soreness. He clutched his head, and was feeling particularly lightheaded again, but he did not in fact faint, just put his head between his knees as he tried to remember how to breathe. Just in and out, right? Why was it so hard to do that and form thoughts at the same time?

“You want a drink?” Anathema asked, still only giving him partial attention.

“I don’t…” he started, “Maybe, I--but we--you--We used protection!!” he finally managed. 

Anathema sighed, “If you had let me finish…”

“I was so careful... I mean, I thought maybe one of those condoms was out of date, but I didn’t… oh god, it probably was, wasn’t it? Holy hell, this is all my fault.”

“Newton…”

“And we had said we were going to go slow! Maybe we shouldn’t have slept together at all at first, I mean...It’s not like I regret it… I DON’T regret it, really, I just. I don’t know what to do.”

“Newt Pulcifer….”

“There’s no way I’m ready for this! Should we get married? Is it too soon? People will already know, probably, they’ll count the months. But maybe we can be modern, we don’t have to be married or set to a standard set of rules. Nothing wrong with it, I guess but I don’t know what to say to the villagers or my mother… oh God My MOTHER! She’s going to kill me, Anathema!” 

“NEWT!” Anathema shouted, standing up, “It’s not your baby!” 

Newt and Anathema stared at one another in absolute silence as the words processed in his brain. Finally, it clicked and he squeaked out “THAT’S FUCKING WORSE!”

“Would you just listen to me?” Anathema asked.

“Whose is it?” he demanded, “Are you breaking up with me? Do you… do you want me to move out, or did something happen, and I didn’t notice and--”

Anathema clapped her hands over his cheeks, squishing them into a fish face, “Stop talking so I can explain and maybe get answers to your questions, hm?”

She told him a story of getting a call and biking over to Adams and seeing auras and making a deal for a car and some plants. “So….” Newt started when she finally finished, “So it’s….the baby’s Crowley’s?” 

“Not Crowley’s, as in his baby,” Anathema said, “the baby IS Crowley. It doesn’t even have my DNA! Probably….” She bit her lip, “Hell, I should have paid more attention in biology...but...yes. It is Crowley.”

Newt took a long breath, staring out into space. He could feel Anathema’s gaze on him, waiting, but for what he didn’t know. “Ok.” he said.

She frowned, “Ok?”

“Ok,” he confirmed. “I guess we’re doing this.”

Anathema swallowed, “People are going to assume it’s yours. Yours and mine. And we can’t tell anyone else any different, not even the kid.”

“My reputation can’t really get much lower anyway,” Newt admitted, “and my mother...I’ll handle that somehow. Eventually the anger will be replaced by her need for grandchildren.”

Anathema was fiddling with her fingers, a very odd look for someone so confident all the time. “You’re not mad?” She asked, “I mean. It’s 11 years of my--of OUR lives, and we’ve only been together a few months. It’s going to affect EVERYTHING, and I...I should have called you, I realized later, but it was all so fast and--”

“No, no,” he stopped her, “Your body, your choice. This was your decision to make on your own.” He smirked, and out of him bubbled a light laugh. 

Anathema frowned at him, “What?”

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” he laughed a little more, “You traded out your uterus to a DEMON for fucking basil.” His laughter grew. 

She smirked, seeing the humor, though not accepting the joke yet. “It’s not just basil,” she said, pronouncing it in the odd American way, “He has a lot of rare herbs, they’re very useful for spells.” He laughed louder, clutching his stomach. “I’ve been trying to get Crowley to lend me some, but he wouldn’t! So, I got them now.”

He laughed all the more, pulling Anathema into a hug she reluctantly accepted, “You’re going to be a great mom,” he said, softly. She squirmed slightly, uncomfortable and clearly not having thought the word ‘mom’ yet. “And it’s… well it’s a LOT sooner than I thought I’d be having kids, but. Well, our relationship was already so goddamn strange. Might as well, you know?”

“You’ll stay?” She asked, pulling back a little to look him in the eyes, “You’ll help me?”

He smiled again, just slightly this time, but enough it reached his eyes. “Of course.” 

He reached out to touch her stomach, hesitating just before he made contact. She rolled her eyes, taking the hand and holding it up against her. “You know you can’t feel anything yet,” she said, “If this was a normal baby we wouldn’t even know about it yet.”

“I know!” he said, only a little embarrassed. “But. But we do know! A baby IS in there.”

“A demon baby,” Anathema said, “A literal demon child.”

Newt sighed, “I guess it’s good we know now, then,” he said, “We’re going to need all the time to prepare we can get.”

She chuckled and kissed him.


	2. Pregnancy Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anathema and Madame Tracy have to deal with the their new condition, and everything that comes with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to altalemur for beta-ing

Madame Tracy (she called herself that even in her own head, it felt weird to just go by ‘Tracy’ these days) took a moment to herself as her moped stopped. Her stomach hadn’t seemed to stop when she did, and she would have blamed the bike, except she’d felt that way when she’d started on her journey as well. 

When the feeling decided it wasn’t going to subside, she fought through it and made it up to the door to Anathema’s cottage. 

She hadn’t been here very often. Ana seemed like a nice enough girl, but they’d only really interacted at the apocalypse, and then once at the grocers when they both nearly got in a fight over an herbal tea. Luckily the store clerk had found a second box in the back, and the whole situation resolved amicably. 

Now, with their mutual situation, Madame Tracy couldn’t help feeling a certain bond to her. Or more aptly, a bond to the number of herbs Anathema kept in her house at all times. 

The door swung open a long minute after her knock, and without any preamble Madame Tracy asked, “Do you have any more of that pain relieving tea you were talking about?” 

Anathema, who looked rather green herself, nodded, opening the door wider to let Madame Tracy in. “I just brewed up a pot,” she said, grabbing the kettle and pouring another mug. Madame Tracy collapsed on the couch without invitation, and as soon as the tea was safely on the appropriate coasters, Anathema followed her. 

They sat in relative silence for a few minutes, taking their tea and absorbing it more than drinking. Though, there was certainly some drinking as well. “I wasn’t really a big tea-drinker before I moved to the UK,” Anathema said, contemplatively, “But now I don’t understand how I lived without it.”

“I actually am not as interested in tea myself,” Madame Tracy said, “But I’d drink mud if it meant keeping down these cramps.”

Anathema smirked, sipping on her cup. “For me it’s the nausea,” she said, “I’ve tried every medication in my stock. Every herb, every over the counter drug, every weird food people guarantee will work. It does nothing.”

Madame Tracy hummed in assent. Her nausea hadn’t been happening too often, but when it did, it emptied her entire stomach. Which, given how much she was eating, was a lot. “I hate to make you get up,” she started, “But do you have any pastries I could have? A macaron or a crepe….something cream filled.”

“Um,” Anathema thought, “I think I have some cookies. Or, biscuits. Whatever. They’re the cheap kind Newt gets. I can’t stand them, but if you--”

“Please,” Madame Tracy said, knowing that it wouldn’t hit the spot she was looking for, but needing it anyway. “Anything.”

They were only a month or so into their new strange adventures, but so far most of their issues were mundane, if annoying. They hadn’t quite started to show, but were both feeling bloaty and gross. “I’m carrying an angel,” Madame Tracy whined, as Anathema struggled to get up, heading for the pantry, “It should be easy, shouldn’t it?”

“Not with this angel,” Anathema said, smirking. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m carrying a demon, and it’s just as painful as that sounds.”

“I cannot stop eating,” She said, as Anathema came back in with a package of grocery store cookies, “Just constantly. I’m going to have to be rolled into the hospital when it’s time.” 

Anathema chuckled, collapsing back in her seat as Madame Tracy dug into the cookie. It was so dry it was practically inedible, but she swallowed it down all the same, just to keep the hunger in her belly satiated for a good few seconds. “So, you’re going to a hospital?” She asked. 

Madame Tracy looked up, “To have a baby? Of course.”

Anathema took a breath, “My family tend to do waterbirths at home,” she said, “A familiar environment is said to be easier, plus then the doctors can’t steal your child away to be injected with trackers by the government.”

Madame Tracy blinked at her, trying to figure out if this was some sort of joke. If it was, Anathema was playing it very straight. “Does that happen often?” She said, trying to play into it.

Anathema sipped her tea. “In America all the time,” she said, “I’m not sure about England, but the same forces control both countries, so more than likely.”

Madame Tracy made a small ‘ah,’ noise, and went back to her cookie. “Well. I just want to be safe, you know. With my medical history, I’d hate for something to go wrong, so I’ll need a professional around.”

Anathema frowned. “If something goes wrong, can’t Aziraphale just,” she snapped her fingers, “Do it again? I mean, I don’t know how the miracle works.”

Madame Tracy blinked. “Well I. I suppose so. But still, I wouldn’t want him to go through the trouble. For 11 years or so he’s just going to be a normal child, so of course I want to look out for him and care for him, that’s the job of a mother.”

Anathema’s frown deepened, and she tapped her fingernails along the edge of her teacup. “But I mean,” she said, “They’re not...they’re not OUR kids, you know?” she said, “They’re smaller than a bean right now, but…..at the most generous they’re our friends, right? It’s a favor.”

Madame Tracy felt like she’d been kicked. Anathema seemed to sense she had said something wrong and bowed her head. “Yes, I know,” she said, “But. They’re still children.” She put her hand on her belly, thinking of her friend who she had tea with and shared books with, and gossiped about people who were dead, “Besides, I don’t know if they ever had a childhood. Never knew much about Angels, really. After all they’ve been through, they deserve to be kids for just a while, don’t you think?”

Anathema didn’t respond, just sinking further into her chair. She mumbled something like, “Didn’t do a damn thing, Newt shut down the bombs and Adam stopped the devil.”

Madame Tracy chuckled, “If there’s one thing I learned from that whole mess, is that looks can be deceiving.” Her cookie finished, “Well. I’d best be getting home. Shadwell said he’d cook dinner, so I have to try and make sure he didn’t burn the whole thing down.”

Anathema nodded, standing up herself to lead her to the door. “Madame Tracy,” she called once they made it outside. She turned back to look at her. “I hope,” she started, but the words failed her, “I hope you know, you can come over for tea any time. I’ve got loads of those herbs, and any little bit helps, right?”

Madame Tracy smiled, “Thank you, Ana,” she said, “Maybe I’ll bring over some danishes next time. Delightful things.” 

Anathema thought about what Madame Tracy said on and off for the next several months. They had several more teas and griped about pregnancy, but didn’t bring up the strange nature of their situation again. They hadn’t even fought about it, not really, but Anathema still felt guilty.

Truthfully, Anathema thought Madame Tracy was in denial. She wanted her own baby, and with the chances for that lacking as time went on, this was probably her best shot. Even if she and Aziraphale started the process all over, the chances of it going successfully went down the longer they waited. 

Anathema, meanwhile, still had a good deal of time before she thought about having a child--REALLY having a child, of course. She and Newt actually got along very well, and sometimes she had that thought in the back of her mind that yes, this might be the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. But that decision was far off, and there was no need to spend time putting pressure on herself or their relationship to see if it would last forever, not when they were happy now. 

Or so Anathema thought until one day she opened the door to a harried looking woman who demanded “You the Device girl?”

Anathema blinked. For one, she hadn’t been called a ‘girl’ for some time, and certainly not with that tone. Second, she had been expecting Madame Tracy, not that they had anything planned, but she was known to show up unexpectedly. Third, this woman was clearly not from the village, so it was a struggle to think what she might have done to hurt her. “Um. Yes, I’m Anathema Device.”

Very suddenly and very surprisingly, the woman embraced her, pulling her into a tight hug, “Oh, it’s so WONDERFUL to meet you! I wish it was different circumstances, of course, but I’ll bring that up with Newton.”

“Oh, you, um, you know Newt?” Anathema said, trying to keep a semblance of normalcy here.

Newt, summoned by the commotion at the door, came back from the kitchen with a dish towel over his shoulder, “Mum!” he shouted, “What are you doing here! I told you that you didn’t need--”

“Obviously I did need to!” The woman, Ms. Pulcifer apparently, snapped at him, “Look at you, having your pregnant wife opening the door for you! I could have been anyone, a murderer or a thief or something!” 

“Um,” Anathema said, looking between them, “We’re not married.”

Ms. Pulcifer’s anger was turned on her, “Don’t I know it!” she said, “Look, I made my peace with the fact my boy was out here, living in sin, because I knew he was a good boy and wouldn’t do anything unseemly.” Like a leopard turning on her prey, she returned her ire to Newt, “Or thought I knew! But here you are, impregnating sweet young girls like your wretched father!” 

Ms. Pulcifer took the dish towel from Newt’s shoulder and started whapping him with it. “Augh! Mum!” Newt said, raising his arm to shield himself. The towel was not rolled in any way, so he wasn’t in much danger from physical harm, but still, “I told you, it’s not like that! Listen, this is our decision, not yours so.”

“You could have at least used protection!” Ms. Pulcifer shouted, blows getting angrier. 

Anathema grabbed the towel mid-air, “Ms. Pulcifer, pleasure to meet you, but really, keeping the baby was my decision. Newt...Newt and I talked about getting married, but we don’t want to change our life plans right now because of this. When I marry Newt, I want it to be because we both are ready.”

Ms. Pulcifer took a deep breath, lips pursed, and Anathema wasn’t sure if she was going to explode or not. 

Instead, she looked sad and patted her on the cheek. “You’re very sweet, my dear,” she said, “And so, so young. Not as young as I was, maybe, but….” She looked between them, “This is something you two will be doing together. And I won’t have my son running off like his father.”

Newt flinched, “Mum…”

“I know sweetpea, but it’s worth remembering so you know not to make the same mistakes. Now, let me get those dishes, can’t have the mother of my grandchild eating off petri dishes!” 

She stormed off into the kitchen, leaving both Anathema and Newt in stunned silence. “I’m sorry,” Newt finally said, “I told her not to come, but, well she’s excited is all. She’s been looking forward to a grandchild since I was born.”

“Why did you tell her at all?” Anathema said.

Newt blinked, surprised. “I tell my mother everything. Well, within reason. I skimmed a bit on the apocalypse situation, but a child! I mean, that’s mortal enough.”

“But it’s not HER grandchild,” Anathema whispered sharply, trying to ensure Mrs. Pulcifer didn’t hear her. “It’s not yours, it’s not even mine!”

Newt took her hand, “We’ll be playing the role near enough,” he said, “And I can’t tell my mother the circumstances. For 11 years, he’ll be part of our family. Which means being part of her family,” he nodded his head to the kitchen where Mrs. Pulcifer was bustling every which way.

Anathema sighed and supposed Newt was right. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t have to. “I just don’t like thinking everyone thinks this is something it isn’t,” she said. 

“Isn’t it?” Newt asked, “The circumstances are weird, but….isn’t it?” Anathema shrugged, not knowing how to answer that. “Have you really not told your family?”

Anathema swallowed, “Kids are a big deal, with my family.” She said, “Carrying on our legacy. But Crowley isn’t about to carry on the legacy of Agnes Nutter.”

“No one is,” Newt said, “I mean. You can teach the kids about her. But the prophecies are over. This is for us. And him.”

“My parents aren’t going to understand that,” Anathema said, “I STILL haven’t told them about the other journals, and if they found out they’d FREAK and…” She took a deep breath, “I just don’t know. This whole thing is weird.”

“Our whole lives are weird.” Newt said, “You’re a witch. Technology explodes around me. We met during the apocalypse, and our closest friends are a witchfinder and a psychic. Nothing about this was ever going to be normal.” Cabinets clang together in the kitchen as Mrs. Pulcifer digs around. “My mother has been afraid since my Dad left that I’d turn out like him. Unable to keep a job, and drinking with his free time. Instead I found you. Demon baby or no, I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Anathema sighed. “You know you can’t just shmulz your way out of every argument.”

“It’s working so far,” he said, and kissed her on the forehead. “Come on, I think Mum’s trying to re-arrange our whole pantry.”

It took a good week for Newt to shoo his own mother out of the house, with the promise to call her if they ever needed, and the assurance she could stop by once a month to ensure they weren’t doing this whole pregnancy thing wrong. She smothered Anathema with love to the point it became suffocating. But then she’d pat Anathema’s rounded stomach and nearly cry, and Anathema didn’t want to take that from her, even if she could. 

Anathema was halfway through the end of this part of the ordeal before she had the strength to video call her parents. “Hello, Mama,” she said as the video turned on, making very careful to have the camera not show her stomach. 

Still, as soon as her mama answered she started with “You’re pregnant.”

Anathema sighed, as she heard her Mom (her other mom, rather) squeak and rush over to the camera to see. “Anathema! You’re pregnant?!” 

Anathema bit her tongue, this wasn’t how she wanted this to go already, “Ah, yes. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Her mama asked, raising an eyebrow, “It’s been a while, but I believe it’s rather a binary state.” 

Anathema adjusted the camera, so they can see her stomach. Her Mom squeaked again, jumping, “How far along are you? How do you feel? Do you know the gender yet?”

“It will be a girl,” her mama said, “Agnes’ first borns are always girls.”

“Maybe not this time,” Anathema said. Her mama raised an eyebrow. “Look, it’s just, after the end of days and all, you know I met he who rides by fire? Well, this is like. A favor to him.”

She didn’t know how to explain beyond that to them. “So he will take the child when she’s born?” Mama asked. 

“Well,” Anathema spluttered, “Well, not exactly. I’ll raise the child until he’s about 11. It’s complicated.”

“If you’re going to be raising the child, then it is your child,” Her mama said, “Your responsibility. And besides, I can tell it will be a girl.” 

Anathema groaned, “I don’t know.”

“When I was born,” Her mama started, “It spread chaos through the family. How could Agnes Nutter’s direct descendant be a boy? It threw all her other prophecies into doubt. But you know what happened?”

“You turned out to be a girl after all,” Anathema said with a sigh, knowing the story very well. 

“That’s right,” she said, “And I may not have carried you myself, but I raised you. You are my direct daughter who I taught everything I know, and you will do the same for your daughter.”

Anathema swallowed. She didn’t even know how demon genders worked, but she could already feel herself losing this argument. 

Her mom saved her, as she often did, “Have you done a reading about the child’s life?” She asked, “That was so wonderful to do when I carried you. Of course we knew some things you would do, but still.”

“I haven’t,” Anathema said. She knew what the child would be, a demon. A friendly demon who had an extensive plant collection filled with plants that were extinct elsewhere, but a demon nonetheless. 

Her mama tsked at her, motioning for her mom to bring over their custom tarot set. Anathema knew it well, it was a wedding gift from her grandmother. “Mama,” Anathema whined, “Please I just wanted to tell you guys, I don’t want to do a whole big spread on this ok? I want...I want the baby to be whatever it’s going to be. And find out later.” 

Both her mother stared at her in wonder and confusion, and not a little bit of pain. “Oh,” her mom said, pointedly not trying to look at her wife, “Just a simple one, dear? To give you some idea of what she might face!”

“HE will be whoever he wants,” Anathema said, remembering the man she knew before. Still, she might as well have stabbed her mother with the way she looked at her. “A simple 3 card spread,” she relented. 

“Five,” her mama countered.

Anathema took a deep breath and sighed. “Five. Fine.” 

Her mom clapped, delighted as she pulled her chair up. Her mama arranged the video camera so Anathema could see the spread. She started in the center, with the present. “The Hanged man,” she said, though Anathema could see quite clearly. “Your child is waiting, as are you. That makes sense, given you said this was a favor.”

Anathema smirked. Waiting for this all to be over with, maybe. Waiting for her 11 years to be up. Her mother lay a card beside it for the past. “The chariot. Two major arcana in a row, very interesting. Your child is being brought to the world by a sense of power and victory.” 

“And a Bentley,” Anathema answered sardonically. Her mothers didn’t say anything, they were all waiting for the next one, the big one. 

As her Mama lay the card down, all three of them were silent. The Tower. 

Unlike the Death card, the tower always meant some kind of destruction or chaos. And that was what was in her child’s future. 

Anathema put her head in her hands, this is exactly why she didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want some threat looming over her all the time, as her fate had done all her life. And she certainly didn’t want that looming over Crowley, at least not while he was under her protection.

“Pull up the next one dear,” Her mom said, “It’s not absolute. If we know the cause, we can fix it.”

Quickly, her mama put one below, to find the reasons behind the future. The Devil. “Someone’s going to be out to get you, my dear,” her mama said. Anathema had a feeling this time the card wasn’t being metaphorical. 

Anathema could see the hesitance in her mother’s hands now as she set the last card down. Potential. “Oh, the page of cups!” her mom said, “I like that one. I almost thought the whole thing was going to be major arcana.”

“It is strange,” her mama agreed. She adjusted the camera so Anathema could see both her mothers again. “Your child is going to have a tumultuous life, my dear. But with some care and love, you will make a wonderful family.”

Anathema smiled at them, though she felt it didn’t reach her eyes. She could believe in most of the cards simply enough. But a family? With Crowley the demon? It was off the table.


	3. Late-Term difficulties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madame Tracy and Shadwell prepare for how their life is about to change, While Anathema considers her future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken forever! Life is. What it is. I hope you enjoy!

“Wensleydale, dear, remember what I said about patterns,” Madame Tracy said. 

“Actually,” Wensleydale said, “I thought these patterns would do very well for creating an optical illusion and limit the size of the belly.”

“My parents say that's all fatshaming nonsense,” Pepper piped up, “The clothes industry is all about enforcing feminine stereotypes.”

“Thank you, Pepper dear,” Madame Tracy said, taking another bite of her pastry, “As it stands, Wensleydale, I think we’re a few months past trying to pretend this baby is any smaller than it actually is. Why don’t you go look in the florals?”

Wensleydale did as directed, scowling as his suggestion had not been taken. The Them had taken to helping and guarding the baby angel and demon before they were born. Most of the time they hung around Anathema, given they liked her and hung around listening to her theories long before she was pregnant. But it eventually got too much for her, and she sent them out. 

Madame Tracy had noted that Anathema was getting more and more irritable as the pregnancy set in. They were both blown up like balloons, but it seemed to bother Anathema more. Madame Tracy, while uncomfortable, was more than happy to sit back and enjoy her snacks, letting others do her work. 

And today, that was the Them. She’d grown out of her old maternity wear, and so needed some new dresses. Adam, Piper, and Wensleydale were all scouring the thrift store to find the perfect outfit. Wensleydale was going through it methodically, Piper picking more subversive outfits for mothers on the go, while Adam chose the most outlandish ones he could find, with the busiest colors and brightest patterns. Madame Tracy liked Adam’s choices the most. 

Brian was quickly forbidden from choosing dresses like the others by an annoyed retail worker who did not want there to be any food in her shop at all, but relented in the face of a very pregnant Madame Tracy to allow them to sit in the corner. Brian and his sticky fingers sat beside her as they feasted on her pastries she continually had on hand now. 

“Oof,” Madame Tracy said, rubbing her belly as she shut her eyes. 

“Is the baby kicking? Brian asked, excited. 

“No, just a little sharp pain,” She said, massaging the spot, “They always pass and--oh! He’s kicking now.” Brian sat on the edge of his seat, leaning over with barely restrained eagerness. She pulled out a wet wipe for him to wipe his hands off quickly before she allowed him to touch her tummy. 

Aziraphale’s little feet drummed up against her belly skin for Brian to feel. Brian smiled brilliantly, just as Madame Tracy always did. 

Adam came up with a yellow and green dress. “How’s he doing, Adam?” Madame Tracy asked.

Adam frowned at her tummy. “I can’t really tell still,” he said, “I tried talking to them, but they don’t respond. It’s like they’re sleeping.”

Aziraphale kicked again, “Well, it certainly doesn’t feel like he’s sleeping.” There was another sharp pain, making her gasp. “I think that’s all I can do today, kids. Best be heading home before I meld with this chair.”

With great effort and some help, Madame Tracy made it to the counter to buy an armload of the dresses, and headed out. The Them’s bikes flanked her scooter like an armored defense squad. She smiled as they guided her back to the cottage she shared with Shadwell, and waved them goodbye. 

Shadwell, it seemed, had been hard at work, the whole cottage smelling of apple danishes. “Mmm, those look delicious,” she said, setting her helmet aside.

Shadwell snapped to attention, not speaking as he guided her to the couch so she could sit. She was about to protest, but as soon as she was down, she groaned, knowing she wasn’t going to get back up again anytime soon. “They’re still cooling,” he chided her, “You’ll have to wait. Besides, you still need to eat your vegetables.” Madame Tracy pouted, “The doctor said it's important to keep your nutrition up.”

“Since when do you care about doctors?” Madame Tracy frowned.

Shadwell grunted, not answering, as he sat on the floor below her, taking off her shoes for her. That was his way around this whole situation. Not asking if he could help, not speaking much at all really. Just, silently fussing over her, doing things for her, doing what she asked with a quiet eagerness. 

It was an exceptionally good quality for when they were in bed. 

And oh boy, were they. Just as Anathema was getting more and more irritable and emotional, Madame Tracy seemed to be getting more and more randy. Madame Tracy thought it was good they weren’t switched, given she could tell Newt was more up to the emotional level of comfort, while Shadwell was better capable for the physical side of things. 

Right now that consisted just of giving her ankles a nice rubdown to counteract the swelling. Though, if he kept moving up those legs like that, she might get a new craving. She wasn’t about to get up to bed, though, so she hoped he was good kneeling on the floor like that. 

“I talked to that pastor today,” Shadwell informed her, not yet aware of her growing desire, “He said we’re all set to reserve the sanctuary next month. It’s a bit soon, but I mean, we have a bit of a time limit, and I don’t want to cut it too close.”

“Close to what?” Madame Tracy asked, not listening too carefully as she enjoyed the feeling of those hands. 

“The birth of course,” Shadwell said, “Would kinda undermine the whole thing, wouldn’t it, if you had the baby out of wedlock after all the trouble.”

Madame Tracy frowned, trying to process what he was saying, “So, a follow up question: Since when are we getting married?”

His hands froze around her calves. Slowly, he released her as he massaged his brow. “Aye, I knew I was forgetting something.” He dug around in his jacket pocket, pulling aside all manner of tiny emergency equipment, from bells and needles to bandaids and some paper receipts detailing where he’d been in case the police ever asked him. Finally, when half a wastebasket worth of stuff was on the floor, he finally pulled out a small box. “I was supposin, the modern way of livin’ might be nice and fine for the young folk, but it won’t do for a witchfinder sargeant to allow his own woman goin around carin’ for a baby all by herself. So, thought it best to make the whole business official.”

Madame Tracy felt the smile on her face grow as she took the box in her shaking hand. “Oh, Mr. Shadwell. Are you sure?”

Shadwell made odd scrunching motions with his face, which Madame Tracy interpreted as being some emotion he was attempting to swallow down like a burp. “Would I ‘ave gone and bought the ring and talked to the useless ole pastor who doesn’t even ‘believe’ in witches anymore if I weren’t sure?”

Madame Tracy chuckled lightly, opening up the box. “No, I suppose not,” she said, taking the ring out. It was a bit gaudy, all things considered, with a big old square cut jewel that she was pretty sure wasn’t a real diamond but looked enough like it, on a rose gold colored band. “I accept,” she said, “Though you never really properly asked.”

Shadwell cleared his throat, “Aye, uh. Well...do you uh, retired Jezebel and seducer of men, wish to make an honest woman of yourself? Preferably with me?”

She chuckled again, leaning forward as much as she could (good Lord it was like piloting an ocean liner), and cupped his cheek. “Yes. Of course I will.” 

His mustache twitched, which might as well have been jumping for joy. She pulled him into a kiss of celebration, feeling his excitement for herself. Maybe a little too much excitement, as it were.

“Um, Mr. Shadwell,” she said, separating just slightly, “I am excited and would like to look over the plans you’ve got ready, but first, um,” her legs twitched against him, spreading ever so slightly. “Would you mind finishing what you started?”

Shadwell looked down, noticing her issue. “Aye. I reckon it’d be a poor show not to, eh?”

They exchanged conspiratorial smiles and Madame Tracy flopped back on the couch, allowing him to get to work. 

Wedding planning, much to Shadwell’s frustration, was not something that could be whipped together in a matter of two weeks. 

In fairness to him, neither of them had any family they really spoke to anymore, but Madame Tracy did have some former clients - of the seance variety rather than the ‘intimate’ variety - in London she wanted to be there for the day. Since it was a small number, they forwent typical invitations and Madame Tracy called them up. This led to several hours on several days where she and her old friends exchanged mostly gossip. 

Finally, after much delay, they were at the evening before the wedding. Shadwell dragged Newt out for some drinking as part of a bachelor party, while Madame Tracy and Anathema sat at home, both round as beach balls and drinking tea.

“You have any more?” Madame Tracy asked, holding out her cup.

“You’ve been chugging this tea,” Anathema said, balancing the cup on her belly as she poured more, “it’s going to run right through you.”

“It’s the only thing that works,” Madame Tracy said, practically snatching the cup from her once it was full. She took a deep sip, only stopping when she needed air, “Shadwell got these medicines from the doctor, but they don’t do a thing.”

“Well, of course, that’s what’s causing you pain then,” Anathema said, “the doctors fill their pills up with pain causers, to drive you back to the hospital for more money.”

Madame Tracy nodded slowly, deciding not to fight back on that. “Well, whatever the cause, it’s a constant pain in my side.”

“I thought that was Shadwell,” Anathema said, teasing.

Madame Tracy smirked, “That’s a pain somewhere else dear.”

Anathema covered her ears, “ew! Ew! Forget I asked!” Getting Madame Tracy to laugh, “topic change! Does the wedding dress still fit?”

“It did yesterday,” Madame Tracy said, “but who knows at the rate I’m growing. It’s like a little zit that’s about to pop,”

Anathema snorted, “well. Sounds like you’re all ready then.” She turned her cup in her hands. “Are you...really sure about this?”

“About what?” Madame Tracy asked, taking another sip, “getting married?” Anathema nodded. “Well. To be honest I don’t really mind either which way. I wasn’t one to have dreams of something big and fancy. But Shadwell doesn’t want to have a baby out of wedlock, so. Marriage it is.”

Anathema’s brow furrowed. “But...you and Shadwell have only been dating a few months. Aren’t you worried?”

Madame Tracy chuckled, “We’re not dating. That’s for young people. We’re living together, and we’ve been doing that for some time now. And no matter what he said, I knew for a long time that we’d be getting together properly for quite some time more. Though I have enjoyed the sex.”

Anathema scrunched her nose up again, making Madame Tracy laugh. “But. Whatever powers that be know I love Newt, I really do for all he’s put up with me. But my...my WHOLE life has been planned out before me up until. How do you know it’s right?”

Madame Tracy frowned at her, reading a lot in her question. “You never know, dear,” she said, “you do what makes you happy. If making an honest woman of me makes Shadwell happy, then it makes me happy. Meanwhile if spending a few hours with Shadwell between my thighs makes me happy—“

“Ok, I need to get going,” Anathema said, trying to shoot up, but her belly making it difficult, “ugh, it’s like steering a semi truck. Crowley is going to owe me big for this. You hear me?” She pokes her own tummy, “Big!”

Madame Tracy chuckled. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes,” she said. “I’ll leave the tea for you, shall I? Try not to drink it all at once.”

Madame Tracy waved her off, waiting until Anathema was out of sight before drinking straight out of the pot, smiling that she got her tea.

The next day, Anathema did see her, but only through the window. On arriving at the church, she found herself hot and uncomfortable, unable to sit still. Then Newt remembered “hey, you’re carrying a demon,” and she went to stand outside, watching the ceremony from there. At the least, Newt came and stood by her.

Madame Tracy saw how nervous Shadwell was that morning. It would have been adorable, if she wasn’t constantly aching. She might have even been nervous herself, but she wasn’t really capable of thinking much beyond the pain.

“Do ye want us to call it off?” Shadwell asked, “delay another week?”

“No, no,” she said, “this took too much to get together. I’ll muddle through.”

She almost thought she would, too. The pain eased, she got herself dressed and down to the church. The music from the church choir played as the doors opened. She saw Shadwell at the other end, hair gelled to make it look like he had more of it, but she would never dare tell him it looked bad, not while he was positively glowing.

She took one step, on beat with the music, and…

“AAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

Madame Tracy crumpled to her knees, the sharp pain in her abdomen screaming as loudly as she was.

Shadwell, to his credit, took off down the aisle at an impressive speed for his age. “What’s wrong?” He asked, “is it the baby?”

“What do you think?!” She yelled at him, still clutching her tummy.

Anathema, watching from outside, banged on Newts shoulder, “she needs to get to the hospital,” she said, putting aside her distrust of Western medicine for once, “get Dick Turpin!”

“What are you doing?” He asked as he rushed off.

“Making someone happy!”

As Shadwell half-carried, half guided Madame Tracy out of the church, most of the crowd came with them, the Them helping her stand. Anathema went straight past them, grabbing the priest by his white collar, “Come on, holy man.”

Dick Turpin was legally outfitted for 5 passengers, but it wasn’t really meant for it. Still, as Newt drove, more panicked than he’d ever been, Anathema shoved the priest into the backseat with Shadwell and Madame Tracy. “Make it quick!” She instructed, sitting shotgun.

The priest was taken aback, this was unlike anything he’d done. “Um, do you, Uh, Mr. Paul Shadwell,” He was interrupted as Madame Tracy screamed again, “take Tracy Groves to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness,” another scream, “and-and in health, til death do you part?”

“Its Sergeant Shadwell, and I do!” Shadwell yelled, holding Madame Tracy’s hand with all his might. 

The priest cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure, though how no one was sure, “and do you, Tracy—“

“Yes, yes!” Tracy screamed, “are we there yet?!”

“Almost!” Newt said, driving as fast as he dared.

“Then by the power vested in me by the Church of England,” he said, “I hereby pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Madame Tracy grabbed the collar of Shadwell’s shirt, awkwardly pulling him into a kiss. “There! It’s done now! Get this blessed thing out of me!”

She ended up needing an emergency c-section. The priest left as soon as he could, leaving Shadwell, Newt and Anathema in the waiting room. Anathema was curled over her own belly, a bit in pain herself. 

“He’s kicking like mad,” Anathema said, pressing as though she could hold him in, while the tiny unborn child was making to breakout alien-style. “I think...I think he’s worried for Aziraphale.”

“Can he tell?” Newt asked, rubbing circles onto her back.

Anathema shrugged, “I don’t know.”

It was ages before the nurse came for them. Anathema was nodding off and desperately trying to get comfortable on Newt’s shoulder. The nurse was smiling, exuding professional calm. “Mr. Shadwell,” She said, “your wife is awake.”

Shadwell shook himself, surprised at the word ‘wife,’ as though he forgot what had happened that day. He let himself be silently guided to the back. “Is everything alright?” Anathema asked the nurse.

“Oh yes,” she said, “healthy baby boy.” Then she widened her eyes, “big baby too. No wonder he was causing problems.”

Anathema and Newt laughed at that. In her belly, Crowley calmed down. Anathema patted him, grateful.

A while later they were let in as well. Madame Tracy was soaked in sweat, like she’d just gone for a several mile jog in a hospital nightgown. Shadwell stood by her, hand on her shoulder, and looking down at the baby in her arms. “Look at tha,” he said as the couple entered, “two nipples and everything.”

They looked down at the child. The nurse wasn’t kidding that he was large. He looked like the perfect version of a cherub, from the rosy red cheeks to the perfect golden curls. 

Crowley started kicking again, and Anathema put her hand on him. “Come here,” Madame Tracy beckoned her. She did as asked as Madame Tracy pulled the baby’s hand from his swaddle, putting it on Anathema’s tummy. “Meet my little baby...Zachary.”

“Zachary?” Newt asked, confused. He earned a growl and a glare from Shadwell. “Good name,” he said simply. 

Crowley kicked against Zachary’s hand, getting the baby to squeak. “Soon,” Anathema said, looking at the baby bathed in his pure white aura, “he’ll be here soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's turn next time.


End file.
